Broken One-Shot
by Rowen-Bells
Summary: I'm not sure when he lost his own jeans. Nor am I sure how long we held to each other. What I am sure of, is that he held me as tight as I needed him to. That he never let me go. *One-Shot* Rated M


**A/N: _Since writing this, I have decided to make it into a full story. I have just posted the first chapter. That said, this one-shot, while written first, does contain spoilers to the full story. So if you have not read it yet, and intend to read the full story, I would pass this one up for now. I do not plan to remove it, however, so that it can remain up to you (the readers) on whether you want to read it or not. Thanks in advance and I hope you enjoy it! _**

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**Broken**

I needed him though I had no right to. I needed him more than I wanted to admit to myself. I tried to reason that my need wasn't necessarily him so much as it was the need to feel _anything _but what I was already feeling. That I needed him to dull the pain and nothing more, and that anyone would have done. Even as I thought this I knew it had been a lie. If I were to be honest, I knew it even before I thought it. No one else would ever do. Not ever. But I didn't deserve him **― **this I also knew. And he certainly didn't need me. He had been born in this world, the son of the most feared and respected man in Megaton. He had been made hard by it. It would have been easy for him to have left me the day he found me. I clenched my fists at the memory; the raiders . . . I had lied and told him that it was the only thing I remembered before being knocked unconscious. Hell, I had said it so much during those first few days after waking up that I nearly believed it myself. I relaxed my throbbing jaw and sighed. He could have walked away, but he didn't. He told me that the raiders responsible would no longer be able to harm another person. I knew immediately what he meant.

He had been so indifferent toward me, and I so resistive toward him. I had slept for three days after he found me. I smiled bleakly at the memory. And I had thanked him for his daring rescue, even if I couldn't remember it (that part wasn't a lie), and he had let me continue to use his room. He had listened to my story and to my surprise, he had met my father. When he had taken me to Moriarty, I had been horrified when he had grabbed the bar owner by the head and slammed it into the counter after he refused to give me the information about where my father had gone. I felt it was too much. Especially considering who Moriarty was. But he had simply shrugged unfazed when I said so. At that point, he scared me. Could a guy capable of doing that to his own father really be any better than the raiders who had . . . No, I would not think of that. The fear had turned to anger and frustration when he refused to let me go off alone to GNR Studios. While he didn't say it for some reason, which surprised me as he was not the type to hold back on his thoughts, I surmised that it was because he didn't think I could take care of myself.

Unspoken or not, he was right. I had not been a fighter. And with the exception of when I pushed the ten millimeter back into Amata's hands, refusing it, the only gun I had ever held up until that point was my BB. I loathed the idea of admitting that I needed him **―** I _refused_ to admit it! He had packed for us, slinging the bag over his head and across his shoulder. I had watched helpless at his intent of staying with me. I had rolled my eyes as he forced weapons into my hands **― **matching handguns, and all but clocked him when he tried to fit the shoulder holster on me. I had no pretense that my weak punch would have effected him in any way, but I was capable of putting that on myself! Not that it mattered in the end. He had merely smirked and brushed off my rants as he locked the shoulder holster into place and then readjusted it to fit me better. He had altered it so that it could hold two hand guns on each side of the body.

Even with my hostility, he had stayed with me. He had taught me to shoot. First one gun with my dominate hand, and then the other gun with my weaker hand. Once he had been satisfied, he taught me to shoot them both simultaneously. Like everything else, I refused to admit that I had enjoyed the lessons. Instead, I had thrown an irritable thanks at him. He had responded with a maddening retort about not getting myself killed now . . .

I looked at the shoulder strap that now rested on a coat rack by the door. He had not given it to me, but he had never asked for it back either. My guns were resting snuggly in the holsters. Reaching forward, I picked the pack of cigarettes up of the table and pulled one out. Bringing it to my lips, I lit it and inhaled the addicting smoke into my lungs. A bad habit I had picked up out here . . . amongst the many. I dug the palms of my hands into my eyes, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. I hated this! I hated the not knowing! When would he come back? Will he come back? If he did, would I finally tell him? Could I tell him?

Once we had gotten to GNR, Three Dog had wanted to hold the information about my dad hostage as well, wanting us to help fix the radio satellite in return for the information. If we had not been surrounded by The Brotherhood, and if I hadn't stopped him by stepping swiftly in front of him, I think he would have repeated the previous tactic he had taken with his father. But while Moriarty may not retaliate against his son, I couldn't expect the same from Three Dog or his band of guards. Besides, even I could see the importance of helping the DJ. What I wasn't expecting, was the Super Mutants. Again he had saved me, as was becoming the norm. Something that irritated me. I had always been the soft weak one. Even in the Vault, I had cowed to the Tunnel Snakes. But I had come so far! It had been so long ago that I had snuck out of the Vault. I was harder and I had become smarter.

But I was still so stupid.

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It never took me this long to hunt food. Usually thirty minutes was plenty long enough, and I was already going on two hours. But fuck! I was confused. More than confused. I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and brought one to my lips, lighting it. I stared at the stick of tobacco speculatively. I had gotten her started on these. I shrugged and took a drag before reaching down and petting Dogmeat, who laid sprawled at my side. I wasn't sure what the fuck I should do. Everything had been pretty straight forward up until this point. She was stubborn and she was less than thrilled with my presence; something she had made clear from the moment she opened her eyes. I didn't hold it against her, though I did find it amusing at times. I also found it annoying. She had been fresh out of the vault, so she didn't know what to expect of this world. Sadly, the Raiders made sure that her first impression was not a good one. I clenched my fists at the memory and took another long drag off my cigarette. I was just glad she didn't remember most of it. I knew she wondered why I stayed with her. From here to GNR, from GNR to Rivet City, from Rivet City to Vault 112, and back again . . .

I couldn't tell her that it had been decided while I was carrying her back to Megaton, bloody and broken in my arms. In that moment, she had woken. "Don't leave me!" she had begged. "Please, stay with me . . . stay with me!" She had been hysterical, holding to me and crying. Begging me. I had to promise several times that I would not leave her before she calmed down enough to pass back out. She didn't wake up again for a couple days. By that time she had forgotten about the promise she had made me make, and her personality came shining through . . . a personality I wasn't sure was really her own, so much as defense mechanism. I snickered and took another pull from the cigarette. I could have backed out. She would have never known. But I would of. Shite, I was such a fucking sucker.

I would be lying if I said her story hand't intrigued me, however. And to learn that I knew who she was looking for . . . remembered as James sat on the barstool talking with my old man like they were old friends . . . it just made all the more sense for me to go with her. But it was when we actually found James that I knew I was screwed. The tears that she had kept hidden since that first day I found her, flowed freely as she grasped her father. Her wall had come down in that moment and I saw in her . . . No, better not think of that. Besides, that wasn't what had me hiding on the outskirts of Megaton, watching the wild dogs play without actually taking the shot. I sighed. No, that was because of what happened at the memorial building. I ran my hand roughly through my hair, the memory of her banging frantically on the glass and then trying to override the system in order to open the door. She had fought so hard against me when I had been forced to carry her out or risk us both being killed. She had called me every name in the book.

She hated me.

And that was why I hid. I didn't think I could look her in the eyes after that. Afterwards, we had followed Doctor Li to the Brotherhood Citadel and I watched as she didn't even bother going through the motions of pretending to care about what Elder Lyons had to say. She had turned to me afterwards and stated with a voice so void of emotion that it chilled me, that she wanted to go back to Megaton. The trip back was a silent one, arriving home just last night. She still said nothing as she went upstairs and locked herself in my guest room. She could have had my room. When I got up this morning, she was up, sitting in the front room and staring at the broken television with a cigarette in her hand. She had said nothing to me, and for the first time ever I was too cowardly to say anything to her. Not a single word of comfort left my lips.

Instead, I took a quick inventory of food and then left. It wasn't until I was outside that I regretted not speaking to her, and vowed that if she needed me I would be there for her. I would try to comfort her. Now here I sat, terrified of the idea of actually doing it. But I couldn't sit here forever. _Come on, Liam. You have to get up. _I sighed and smashed the cigarette into the ground. Getting to my feet, I brought the shotgun up and looked steadily down the scope. The wild dogs chased one another, running in and out of my field of vision. I squeezed the trigger and the shot rang out. A wild dog skidded to a stop, while two other turned and ran. Dogmeat, who had finally perked up when I stood, trotted ahead to sniff at the dead carcass as he waited for me to catch up. Bending down, I picked the dead animal up and placed it on my shoulders.

"Come on boy," I said down to the dog, who barked happily.

####

I was still in the chair when the door creaked open. I didn't look up, and he said nothing as he walked past me. Dogmeat came and nudged my hand, and I petted him absentmindedly. It had taken him over two hours to hunt. It never took him that long. I looked up from under my eyelashes at him and saw the packaged meat he was putting away and noted that he must have stopped off at the Brass Lantern to trade. I couldn't take this! My heart had been ripped apart once already when I had to watch my father kill himself for the good of his project. I couldn't lose Liam too. But I had no idea how to keep him. Was he even mine _to _keep? I was broken. I didn't want to admit that this world had broken me, but I couldn't deny it either. I needed him, but I would just hurt him too.

Getting to my feet, Dogmeat cocked his head quizzically at me. I said nothing as I went upstairs and walked back into his guest room. He would never know that when I had asked to come back to Megaton, I had nearly asked him to take me _home_. That's what this place had become to me now. But it was not my home, it was his. I curled up on the couch, staring at the shelf just left of the door. I was too numb to cry. I thought of my father, of the time we had in the Vault and the small amount of time we had out of it. I had not thought I would find him. Truth be told, had Liam not been with me . . . I never would have. I would need to thank him for that. It seemed that there was a lot I would need to thank him for. I wasn't sure how long I laid here. Through the holes in the walls, I could see that the sun was setting. At some point, Dogmeat had nudged the door open and sprawled at my feet with a huff. I did not bother to get up and re-close the door.

The static sound of the jukebox coming to life, and then the room filling with the sound of Etta James caught my attention. Without lifting my head, I turned my eyes upward toward the door. From here I could see him standing at the radio, playing with the dials to make sure that he had the best reception possible. He did not seem to notice my watching him, and I turned my head to get a better view. He had taken off his jacket and removed most of his weapons. All but his knife. His jaw was hard as if he had it locked, and he ran his fingers roughly through his dark hair. It looked like he had done that a lot today. Finally satisfied with the quality of the station, he turned and walked out of my line of sight. Too soon, the song was over and the familiar rebel voice of the wasteland came on.

"Tinfoil hat time, children." Three Dog began and I rolled over to look at the ceiling. "My eyes and ears tell me the Big Bad Government has taken over that big machine thingy at the Jefferson Memorial. You heard it here first, my friends - the Enclave is on the scene . . ." I sat up, frozen. How had he gotten word so quickly?! I was staring out the door at the jukebox, my breath hitched in my throat as he continued.

"I've got reports of flying ships and shock troops in high-tech power armor. And, when the Man showed up, a bunch of scientists went running. With them was Rivet City's own Dr. Madison Li, that crazy kid from Vault 101, and Megaton's own home grown hero." I was sure I had stopped breathing now. My body was shaking, my lip quivering, but that didn't stop him from continuing.

"They're safe and sound now at the Citadel. Praise Jesus! Praise Jesus! No sign of the kid's father, though . . ." I gasped. A sound that must have been heard by Liam as he suddenly appeared in front of the Jukebox once more, reaching around to find the cord. "Here's hoping James is okay. Well, boys and girls, what can I say. Looks like President Eden wasn't completely full of shit after all. Me thinks we are screw**―**"

And then there was silence as the cord was ripped from the wall. I sat there, unable to move and unable to look away as Liam watched me warily. I couldn't stop them. The tears began to trace the dried up paths that had been left behind. I wasn't as empty as I had thought. My heart lurched in my chest, and I began breathing rapidly, my breast heaving painfully with each gasp. I dropped my head in my hands. In seconds, he was in my room, kneeling in front of me.

"Look at me," his subtle irish voice commanded, but I couldn't meet his eyes. He took my chin gently in his hand and lifted my face to look at his.

"It's my fault," I whispered, finally voicing what I had been harboring since being dragged away from the memorial building.

"No. Its not." He said firmly.

But I was already nodding, knowing what I said was true. "It is."

Without stopping to think about what I was doing, I leaned forward and threw my arms around him. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. He held me gently, stoking my hair, allowing my tears to stain his shirt, whispering words of comfort. I wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point he had repositioned us so that he was sitting on the couch, cradling me in his arms. My tears did not seem as if they were going to stop soon, but he was patient with me. More patient than I deserved. I felt guilty needing him like this when I had been nothing but difficult toward him over the past several months. I wanted to apologize for my behavior, but I couldn't get the words to leave my lips. It was awhile before my tears dissolved to hiccups, and I fell to sleep in his arms. It wasn't until he laid me down in his own bed that I woke. He had just turned to leave, when I caught his hand in mine. He looked down at me, his eyes unreadable in the dark.

"Stay with me," I begged, my raw voice barely above a whisper. "Please . . . I don't want to be alone tonight."

He stood, thinking about it for far too long and the trepidation of pending rejection sent my heart racing and my breathing became pitched. I could see his eyes widen slightly before closing completely. He nodded. Relief! My breathing began to slow as I watched him kick off his shoes, and I scooted over as far as I could on the small twin mattress, watching as he removed his shirt. He left his jeans on, but took his knife out and set it on the nearby desk. He left the room only briefly, returning within seconds with another pillow. Placing it against the head board, he carefully crawled into bed with me. My heart raced at his close proximity in the dark. I hesitated only once, and only briefly, as I rolled toward him, laying my head on his chest. Was he holding his breath? Slowly his chest began to rise and fall in steady, calming breaths. That was better. Adjusting myself slightly, I chanced a glance up at him, hoping to gage his expression. His eyes were closed, his fingers clasped behind his head.

I followed a path from his forehead, down to his closed eyes that I knew shined a crystalline blue underneath. From his eyes, I took in his nose and his lips. They weren't full, but they weren't thin either. His jaw was strong, looking as if it had been cut from stone, and stubble graced his face. He had not had time to shave. I owed him so much. I would never be able to repay him. Not ever. He had now seen me at my weakest twice. And neither time did he ridicule me or argue with me.

Without warning, his eyes opened slightly. He had caught me looking at him. His brow creased and I guessed he was trying to read my own expression. That or he was worried I would start crying again **―** something that was, in all actuality, a possibility. I wanted so badly to tell him what I was thinking. To thank him for all he had done. Most of all, I wanted to tell him how much I needed him. But that was selfish. I was already being selfish, begging him to stay with me. I couldn't burden him with more of my insecurities. I dropped my eyes.

"What's wrong?" His husky voice was concerned. I shook my head in response. Reaching down, he caught my face and made me look back up at him. With as far as he lifted my chin, I had to prop myself up on an elbow to avoid an awkward position. "Tell me?"

His crystalline gaze was so soft, but so intense. I couldn't look away, knowing that I would easily get lost in his eyes. I remembered first meeting him, and nearly laughed at my initial reaction of finding his gaze uncomfortable. I had been stupid. And I could tell that he was truly curious too. No. Not curious. Concerned. He was genuinely concerned for me. For my well being. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to help me put an end to whatever turmoil I was feeling.

I kissed him.

Snaking my free hand up his body, I cupped his neck and pulled myself slightly on top of him. My tongue traced his lips as I tasted him, my breathing becoming rapid and my heart racing. My body flushed warm as he brought his hands to my face. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He had to use both of his hands to pry my lips away, his eyes boring into my own.

"Please, Liam." I whispered. "Please." Leaning forward I kissed him again before he was pushing me back once more. His rebuff was not unkind, but cautious of my sudden display of affection. He had every right to be guarded. From my face, his hands dropped down to my shoulders and then to my waist. His eyes watching me warily.

"I don't . . . I don't want to take advantage," he said through hitched breathing. "You're not in your right mind."

"I am!" I disagreed fervently, running my hand along his chest.

"You're grieving . . . It's normal to want to find something to feel besides the pain. But . . ." He didn't seem sure how to finish that. He sighed. "But I don't want you to regret this in the morning."

"I wont!" I shook my head, my eyes beseeching. "I swear I won't . . ." Dipping my head, I planted light kisses across his chest. I heard him moan, and I looked up at him, curious about whether it was a moan of delight or frustration. Both maybe? His eyes were still cautious as he took in my face. "I _need_ you Liam." I whispered, my heart racing . . . unsure and scared of how he would respond now that I had voiced what I had kept hidden. When he said nothing, I continued. "This . . . us . . . it isn't about my father. Or the pain I feel about . . ." Even I could hear the tremor in my voice, and I swiftly moved on, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "I have always needed you, I just never wanted to admit it. And tonight . . . tonight I need you more than ever. _Please_ . . ."

"Shite," he whispered, and I took advantage of his wavering resolve, grabbing his neck and pressing my lips against his again. He tightened one arm around my waist, pressing my body firmly into his as he ran his other hand through my hair, kissing me hard. My stomach erupted in butterflies as I hitched a leg over him, straddling him. His tongue danced with mine, and I savored it. My body yearned for more. I had not been sure I would ever feel this way about anyone after what had happened to me. That I could feel such a strong desire for him not only pleased me, but gave me a sense of relief.

Pushing myself upright, I tugged at my shirt. With his help, I removed it and tossed it on the floor. I could feel his hand on the back of my bra, and with a snapping like motion of his fingers, he unclasped it and slid it off my arms. That too found the floor. He was immediately kissing my excited breasts. I sighed with pleasure at the soft kisses across my skin, before he drew my nipple into his mouth, sucking it lightly. My body quivered, my face flushing. Lifting his head to look at me, I smiled. I knew that my need for him was there on my face. There was no hiding it anymore, and I didn't want to. I needed him, but what was more . . . I _wanted_ him.

With his arm firmly around my waist, he flipped me over **―** my head hitting the pillow as he pressed himself firmly against my body, his lips on my throat. With fumbling fingers, I worked at the button of his jeans. It took a few tries, but I finally managed to get that damn brass circle out of the hole that confined it. Once my success was evident, he leaned back with a slight smile on his face. His hands, much more sure than my own, traced the planes of my stomach before expertly unbuttoning my own jeans and grabbing a handful of the fabric in both his hands. I lifted my lower body up off the bed so that he could slide my pants down my legs. Another addition to the growing pile. We repeated the action for the removal of my panties. Fully exposed to him now, I shivered.

He stopped abruptly. "Are you . . . _sure_ about this?" He watched me intently, his tone guttural. As hard for him as it would be, if I knew that if I said no that he would stop. The knowledge of this left me breathless.

My actions were braver than I felt as I propped myself up on my elbows in order to reach his lips. Pulling away, I nodded. He chewed on his lip. Reaching forward and ran my hand along his chest, raking through his chest hair. He closed his eyes at my touch, his body visibly relaxing. And then he smiled. But it wasn't the smirk I had grown used to. It was authentic and real. It was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.

I'm not sure when he lost his own jeans. Nor am I sure how long we held to each other. What I am sure of, is that he held me as tight as I needed him to. That he never let me go. His lips discovered every part of my body and mine reciprocated. I bit into his shoulder time and time again as I cried out with ecstasy over and over. My inner walls tightened perfectly around him, as though I had been made for him and him for me. He was gentle, rough, passionate and greedy. He took from me as much as I took from him, and I delighted in knowing that I was making him shake just as much as he was making me. It was then that I realized he needed me too. Maybe not as much, but he needed me all the same. My heart soared **―** a strange feeling that I had not expected. It was as our pace quickened, our breaths racing against the orgasmic currents that wracked our bodies, that it occurred to me just how much more my need for him was. Much, _much,_ more!

I was in love with him.

Later, when I was lying in his arms, our breathing slowing to a normal pace, I thought about what the morning would bring. Just because I had an epiphany about how I felt, did not mean that he felt the same way. I didn't care. I would deal with that tomorrow. Tonight I would bask in the glow of being repaired after being broken for so long.

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_A/N: _I was asked by a friend who read this why I don't describe or name the female "lone wanderer." My answer is this: At the time of writing it, I originally imagined her as my own personal character. But then it dawned on me that anyone who reads this will do the same and I didn't want to take that away from them. I really hope you enjoy reading this! Please leave a review!


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